


Cursed To Dance

by Bliss_ful



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst?, Dead Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Dead Wilbur Soot, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Jschlatt-centric (Video Blogging RPF), POV Third Person, Wilbur Soot and Jschlatt friendship but n o t, Wilbur Soot-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:26:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bliss_ful/pseuds/Bliss_ful
Summary: Maybe one day they'd finally learn why. Maybe one day they'd finally make it up to each other and be friends once more, to laugh and smile and cry with each other. Until then they were here, cursed to dance until the end of everything, forever hating each other but not knowing why. Dancing like puppets on a string with no control over how their body moved, the fact that they couldn't speak or do anything of their free will. The smell of alcohol and smoke filling the empty area that seemed to go on and on.★Please don’t share my work or claim it as your own. If any of the CC’s included feel uncomfortable with anything in here I will take it down★
Relationships: Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Kudos: 21





	Cursed To Dance

**Author's Note:**

> This is not canon in any way I just thought it was a fun idea <33\. Don’t take this as shipping please :)).

They were both cursed to dance. Forever to spin with the other and twirl and leap, to stare at each other forevermore. They never spoke, not saying a word to each other. Their minds seemed to know the dance, their feet following its rhythm. It was almost as if they'd practiced the dance, and seeing so far how much they'd done it by now they truly did have it memorized. They didn't know much of who they were, just their names, a few memories (happy for one and much angrier for the other), and the other's name. The only true thing that they felt was burning hatred towards the other. They didn't know why and they never spoke of it. Not that they could anyway. Their mouthed felt sewn shut with an invisible thread. Their bodies pulled along by someone, played like puppets or dolls for whoever it was.  
They didn't care. They couldn't. Either felt any emotions besides the burning rage towards the other and either happiness or sadness towards the memories. They didn't try and remember anything else and they didn't try to feel anything else. They were alone with no one but each other and their eternal dance.

They couldn't help but wonder, as while their bodies moved after some time they'd stopped paying attention. Their bodies moved without their free will so they didn't have to focus anyway. They tried to remember more, and eventually gave up. They tried to feel more and eventually gave up. In the end, they found themselves trying to remember the other. Why did they feel such burning hatred? Why did they seem so familiar yet unfamiliar? They didn't know.

A long brown coat hung off one, wrinkled, old, and ripped. It was littered in patches of different colors and the person's skin was covered in scorch marks from some sort of burn or explosion. Their expression was blank and one eye was covered by their fluffy brown hair, they were a noticeable amount taller than the other. They shifted occasionally into someone with a yellow sweater with sweater paws, a large smile on their face as they laughed. Their hair was the same, but much more taken care of and bouncy. They had a red beanie on their head as well. No scorch marks decorated their skin. He smelled of gunpowder. He knew his name was Wilbur.

Wilbur saw the other as a man with a black suit, an annoyed expression on his face. He had ram horns poking out of his head, curling slightly. He had facial hair and well taken care of brown hair, as well as the fact that he was shorter than Wilbur. He sometimes shifted into someone with a blue sweater that fit him well, most other things similar besides his horns which were slightly less sharp and pointed, also the fact that his hair was much freer and the slightly amused expression on his face. He smelled of alcohol. He knew his name was Schlatt.

Maybe one day they'd finally learn why. Maybe one day they'd finally make it up to each other and be friends once more, to laugh and smile and cry with each other. Until then they were here, cursed to dance until the end of everything, forever hating each other but not knowing why. Dancing like puppets on a string with no control over how their body moved, the fact that they couldn't speak or do anything of their free will. The smell of alcohol and smoke filling the empty area that seemed to go on and on. 

Forever stuck in their cursed dance.


End file.
